“Yes, well, some of us like it here,” replied Fern, pulling the book toward her and running a paw down the front. “She’s got a family estate a little north. I’ve seen her once or twice, but I don’t think she gets down this way very often. Probably sends somebody else. She’s very … very regal.”
For some reason, the concept of an author being a real person you might bump into on your way down the street seemed impossible to imagine. “And she just … writes books?”
Fern gave her a funny look. “Got to happen some way. And she doesn’t just write books—she writes a lot of books.”
“Like, how many more?” Viv asked, as indifferently as she thought she could get away with.
Fern’s lips curled into a grin that was positively feline, no small accomplishment given the circumstances. “You know, for a bookseller, it’s very satisfying when you finally set the hook.”
Viv rolled her eyes.
“Let me see which ones I have on hand. I’ve been trying to finish this restocking order, and—”
The door creaked open, and it was hard to say who was more surprised when Pitts ducked in from the fog, moisture beading on his shaved scalp.
He stood awkwardly just inside the doorway, then held up the little orange book of poetry between two fingers. “Was wonderin’，” he said slowly, staring intently at a spot far above Fern’s head, “if you had another like this?”
* * *
“Hey, hon!”
After Pitts’s unexpected appearance at the shop, Viv thought she was done with surprises until Maylee slid into the chair across from her in The Perch.
“Hey …” Viv set her mug down slowly.
Maylee wore plain clothes, and for once, she wasn’t gleaming with sweat and heat, although her cheeks hadn’t lost their rosy flush. Her braid draped like a rope of flax over her shoulder, and in the lantern light, her eyes were luminous. It took Viv a second to recognize it, but as a warrior accustomed to the hunt, the shiver of being pursued was novel.
“Brand!” hollered Maylee. “I’ll have the beef! And you got any of those little red potatoes? You know the ones I mean.”
Brand raised a tattooed arm in acknowledgment.
“And somethin’ to drink!” she added.
Viv slid her plate to the side and crossed her arms on the table. It seemed polite to wait. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here.” She lowered her voice and added, “And this is kind of embarrassing, but it feels weird to see you outside your bakery. You just seem to … I dunno, belong there.” It had knocked her back to imagine Zelia Greatstrider marching around Murk, but seeing Maylee out and about seemed equally improbable. And yet, here she was.
“Hm, well, if that surprises you, you shoulda seen me a couple years ago.”
“Oh, yeah?” Viv’s brows rose.
“I guess you wouldn’t know it to look at me these days, but I used to raise some hell myself.” Maylee curled one arm. “I didn’t get these just punchin’ dough.”
“You’re serious?”
“I swung a mean mace. Big, flanged thing. Mostly mercenary stuff and only for a few years, but yeah.”
Viv leaned further forward. “Who’d you run with? What happened?”
Maylee laughed, a more delicate sound than Viv expected to hear coming from her. The dwarf might have been short, but everything about her seemed like it should be big. “Oh, nobody you’da heard of. And I guess it just got so I wanted to spend more time fussin’ over my campfire biscuits than trompin’ around some damp cave. You ever cooked biscuits on a campfire? Pain in the ass. I got pretty good at it, though. And at some point …” She shrugged.
Viv was mystified. She immediately thought of the Ravens, and something like homesickness flared up in her chest. “And you’re … happy doing that? You don’t miss it?”
“Sleepin’ on roots? Nah.”
“Here you go, miss,” said the tavern kid, sliding a steaming plate and a copper mug in front of Maylee. An inch-thick slab of heavily peppered beef crowded a bunch of salted, diced potatoes. Viv had already half finished her own meal, but her stomach snarled at the smells of hickory, rosemary, and hot, crispy fat.
“Thanks, Ketch.” So, the tavern kid had a name. Viv noticed he didn’t rate a “hon.”
Maylee’s eyes sparkled as she arranged her plate before her, and her delighted expression made Viv smile. The woman was definitely enthusiastic about her food.
Viv dragged her own plate back in front of her and picked up the fork. “Eight hells, I can’t even imagine. I’d go crazy. I feel like I’ve got an itch I can’t scratch waiting around here, and it gets a little worse every day.”
The dwarf enthusiastically sawed off a bite and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes as she chewed. “Oh, that’s the stuff.” She sighed contentedly. “Anyway, nah, not really. I keep myself busy, and there’s a lot less bleedin’。” She pointed her fork at Viv. “And a lot better food.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, only the clink of knife and fork on the tin plates marking the time. It was comfortable.
Eventually, Maylee put down her utensils and steepled her fingers over her plate. She was still smiling, but there was something serious about her gaze, too, and Viv had the sense of a curtain being swept aside.
“Look,” said Maylee, and her voice was softer, pitched just for Viv. “I like you.”
Viv cleared her throat as that comfortable feeling evaporated, replaced with a jumble of emotions she couldn’t sort out without time to claw through them. Time she suddenly didn’t have. “Uh, I guess I sort of figured that out,” she said, lamely. And then lower down, “Don’t know why, though.”
Maylee arched a speculative brow. “Well, I woulda said it was when I first saw those arms, ’cause … eight hells! But really it was when I saw you waitin’ in line. Watchin’ the careful way you moved around the other folks.”
Viv’s cheeks went hot, and she couldn’t find any words. She suddenly didn’t have the breath for it.
“All real cute. And okay, then I talked to Fern, too.” At Viv’s widening eyes, Maylee laughed. “She didn’t spill any secrets, hon. But maybe I got a peek at you. Enough to know I’d like to know you better.”
Her smile slipped, and there was something distant and sad in her eyes. “You know, there’s a lot of people out there. Lot of noise. I love what I do, love it every day, but none of us sees more than a tiny piece of all the world, like we’re lookin’ out a little-bitty window. And I saw you through mine, and somethin’ inside me said, ‘That’s somebody you oughta know.’ Simple as that.
“I know you’re gonna be gone,” she said. “Maybe in a couple weeks. You know what, though? Doesn’t matter to me. I’m just gonna make it real simple for you. Do you think you oughta know me?”
Maylee tried to say it casually, but Viv wasn’t so dull she didn’t feel the thread of tension running through those words.
Viv stared at her entirely too long as words turned to vapor in her mind, and all the while she felt that line of tension grow tighter. And when she couldn’t bear for it to break, she suddenly had to answer.